Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Costa Rica and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing A Flock of Seagulls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
DNA,
Man Parrish,
The Last Poets,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Evens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Prince Buster,
Hashim,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Görl,
The Dead C,
Glambeats Corp.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang of Four,
Von Mondo,
Hot Snakes,
Grauzone,
Letta Mbulu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Talk Talk,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
B.T. Express,
Oneida,
Traffic Nightmare,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minutemen,
Moebius,
Fad Gadget,
The Human League,
Con Funk Shun,
Ponytail,
Brass Construction,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Yaz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Colin Newman,
Derrick May,
Supertramp,
Blake Baxter,
Massinfluence,
Ituana,
Deepchord,
Lalann,
The American Breed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marmalade,
Monolake,
The Alarm Clocks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Loose Ends,
Silicon Teens,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vainqueur,
Max Romeo,
Marine Girls,
John Holt,
Josef K,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.